


As Innocent as Sin

by ParadiseAvenger



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Incest, Pegging, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:56:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadiseAvenger/pseuds/ParadiseAvenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of their father, Roxas strives to protect his fragile sister. Little did he know, Namine didn't need his protection in the least. In fact, he might be the one who needs protection from her. Femdom. AU. Adult themes. NamineXRoxas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sisters, Sisters: Part I

**Warnings:** this story will contain very strong “hardcore” female dominance or femdom. Read at your own risk!

Expect another update for this story on Friday.

X X X

Roxas had always strived to make himself into the likeness of his father. When he grew older, he wanted to be as good and as strong as his father. He wanted to have the wide hands and broad shoulders and powerful heart of his father. He wanted the ability to make everything better with a single word in his deep voice. He wanted all the strength and willpower that his father possessed, he wanted to be tall and smart like his father, and he wanted to capture lovely ladies like his mother with a single smile. He wanted very much to be like his father.

But then, life is never exactly what one expects.

When Roxas’s father died, all the strength went out of the family. Roxas’s mother suddenly became a paper doll with thin hands and brittle short hair like a flower touched by frost. She diminished into a shade of the woman she had once been and, all at once, became unable to look at Roxas who had strove so hard to become like his father before this. She began to spend more and more time away, leaving her children alone for longer and longer periods of time as if she might someday return home to a house empty of children but once again filled with the presence of the man she had loved.

Roxas, still standing in the vast shadow of his father’s life, found that he had to try harder to step out of it. His mother couldn’t bear to look at him any longer and her eyes would fill with tears before she left. But he so loved his father and couldn’t bear to become nothing like him. He still wanted to be like his father, more so now that he was gone.  
Instead, he turned his attention to his little sister, Namine. 

Namine was like their mother. She was beautiful and slender with shining hair like spun gold and thin rose-pink lips that she painted with candy-colored gloss. God, she was beautiful like a flourishing tree of white angel’s trumpets. She was fragile with her thin fingers and narrow wrists and small waist, still very much a child on the cusp of becoming a woman. Roxas pulled together all that remained of the strength left behind by their dead father for her. 

‘Lord help the mister who comes between me and my sister,’ Roxas sang in the same voice as Berlin Irving. 

And Namine would giggle as she listened and watched him—she was always giggling like a child with her glitter-dusted lips pressed behind her thin white fingers. 

Roxas would smile back and dance a little bit to their favorite song. Namine would stand aside, smiling behind her fingers, watching him with her bluest eyes. As siblings, they shared the same eyes—the same deep ocean blue that they had shared with their father—the eyes of a strong wonderful dead man. 

Roxas wondered why he had never noticed that before.

…

School was hard after the death of their father. People whispered behind their hands, watched closely, studied their family, spread rumors of how and why it had happened, and waited. They waited for something else to happen. It was a small town where tragedies were never easy. With their mother hiding within the sanctity of her job at the hospital where she worked longer and longer hours, Roxas took it upon himself to protect Namine as his father would have. He kept her close, sometimes feeling as if she were a perfect white dove that he had caged.

The school’s bell was broken and had a tendency to ring too loud so Roxas’s ears were still ringing as he walked to his locker at the end of the day. He had too many textbooks and too much homework and it was a pain to try to juggle it all. He turned around the halls corner in time to receive another broken toll of the bell and to spot Namine with her back pressed against her locker, her mouth drawn thin. There was a boy leaning close over her like a wolf stalking prey. 

Suddenly, Roxas was happy that he had so many textbooks (even if he could do with a little less homework). It was plenty of ammunition, after all. He took his biology book from the top of the stack, jostled everything into the crook of his arm, and let the heavy book fly. 

It slammed into Namine’s gentleman-caller’s knee and the boy yelped, turning to glare at Roxas. “What the hell, Roxas?” he snapped, rubbing his knee. His hand was still leaning on the cool metal beside Namine’s head and she looked caged by the size of his body. “We were only talking.”

“Get lost,” Roxas said to the guy. “Leave my sister alone.”

His lips drew back over his teeth and he seemed about to snap at Roxas before thinking better of it and walking away with a limp. Then, the hallway was empty save for Roxas and Namine. She turned to open her locker, jiggling the lock that was just as broken as the school’s bell. Roxas came to help her, juggling his books and papers. Finally, the locker popped open and Namine took her winter coat from the confines. She shrugged into it, drowning within the pale faux-fur-lined fabric.

“Are you okay?” Roxas asked her. 

“Yes,” she said. “Thank you.” Then, she removed her purse and flowered backpack, tucking away the books she needed for that night. All the while, Roxas stood at her side like a white knight, watching her pale hair whisper against her cheek. She was wearing red lipstick but no other makeup and she was still so beautiful. 

“Do guys bother you a lot?” Roxas asked.

Namine closed her locker with a bang. “Not so much,” she said smoothly. Then, she picked up his biology book and placed it on the top of his stack. “Are you ready to go home?”

“Just a minute,” Roxas said and scurried to his locker down the hall. His locker wasn’t broken and it only took him a few minutes to stash his books and grab his coat. He slammed his locker and turned back to Namine, but paused just long enough to study her.

Namine was winding a delicate sheaf of pale blue silk over her hair and around her neck. Then, she tucked her hands into gloves and put them in her pockets, leaning absently against her locker as she waited for her brother to join her. She was so beautiful, like a singular flower that chose to bloom on a grave in the dead of winter. She was wearing leather boots and black leggings beneath a vintage lace skirt that swirled around her hips like the layered petals of a rose. Beneath her winter coat, she wore a pink long-sleeved shirt trimmed with pale lace above her breasts and at the sleeves and hem. Her lips pulled when she realized he was watching her and her blue eyes stood out like dark pools cut from the ocean.

Roxas stumbled in his haste to reach her side and she giggled, hiding her red mouth behind her fingers. 

“Ready?” he asked her as he shrugged quickly into his jacket. 

She smiled with a nod, letting him take her heavy backpack. 

Together, they walked from the school and slogged through the snow together back to their home. The small town was bustling and people watched them go, whispering, but Roxas’s body was a shield. Their words never came through, never touched her, never tore into her like blades. Roxas protected her, in the same way their strong father had once protected their wispy mother.

The house was empty when they returned home. Their mother hadn’t returned for a few days now. She was always at work anymore, returning maybe once a week. The Christmas lights were twinkling absently through the veil of icicles and snow hanging from the line of the roof. Namine took the key from her purse and unlocked the door, flicking on the lights inside. Roxas followed her into the kitchen, setting down her backpack with a thump beside his own much lighter one. (Just because he had a lot of homework didn’t mean he was going to do it.) 

“You study too much, Namine,” Roxas said as he eyed the heavy bag. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

Namine smiled up at him. “I’m fine,” she said. “I worry more about your grades, Roxas.”

Roxas gave a snort. “I maintain a nice B-as-in-below-average.”

Namine tugged off her gloves and put them back into her coat pocket. Then, she took off her coat and handed it to Roxas to hang in the hall closet. She unwound the scarf from over her hair and throat, letting it drape across her shoulders lightly. “I’m going to make some dinner. What are you hungry for?”

“Whatever,” Roxas said easily. He passed by her on his way to the living room, his body moving the air lightly. “I’m going to play some video games for a while. If you need me—”

“I know where to find you,” Namine finished for him with a sunny smile as she pulled some vegetables out of the fridge and laid them on the cutting board. “I know, Roxas, I know.”

Roxas chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with embarrassment. “I know,” he said. “But you’re my little sister and I just couldn’t bear if anything happened to you. I want to protect you.”

Namine stood still for a moment with her back to him. Her fingers were poised around the handle of the knife as she paused in her meal preparations, half-cut carrots and potatoes lying out before her like shards of something broken. “Did you ever think, Roxas, that I don’t need to be protected?”

Roxas was standing behind her, close enough that he could smell her perfume and feel the heat of her body. “You’re my little sister,” he murmured softly. “Won’t you always need me to protect you?”

Namine didn’t answer. Instead, she wordlessly began to slice the vegetables into perfect pieces. Roxas moved away from her, content that he had settled their little dispute as easily as his father might have. He powered up the game system, grabbed a controller, and sat back while Namine prepared dinner. 

Soon, the house was filled with the aroma of fried rice and meat. 

“Roxas!” Namine called. “Dinner time!”

He shut off the video game, leaving the world unsaved, and hurried to the kitchen to see what Namine had prepared. She was a fantastic cook like their father had been and Roxas looked forward to whatever she made no matter what it was, even if it was an experiment of hers. His mouth watered at the sight of the delicious stir fry she had laid out on the table and he dug in eagerly.

Namine sat across from him, her blue eyes like deep pools, eating daintily.

“Be sure to eat your vegetables,” Roxas told her smartly.

Namine smiled, chewing deliberately. “I know, Roxas.”

He smiled at her, sipping his milk. 

Roxas wasn’t sure exactly when he started to feel lightheaded. He tried to convince himself that it was merely because Namine’s food was so heavenly and continued eating while Namine told him cheerfully about her day. When he could hardly focus on her words, he told himself it was because the milk must have been bad. When was the last time he had bought fresh milk? He couldn’t remember. He told himself it was nothing, maybe he had come down with a sudden bug, but the world around him continued to spin even when he stopped eating. 

“Roxas?” Namine asked and her voice sounded very distant. “Are you alright?”

“I’m… fine…” he slurred out.

“You don’t look so good. Do you want to lie down?” she continued as if from a thousand miles away. 

Her pale face washed in and out of focus like rain sliding down glass, her bright eyes gliding past like fish through dark water. He watched the flash of her hands as she set aside her napkin and fork so that she could study him closely. He saw the outline of her rose-red mouth, the shine of her glittering lipstick, as her lips moved when she spoke. She was smiling at him. Her smile was so pretty. Then, the whole world went dark. 

…

Roxas woke with a headache throbbing somewhere between a brass band playing and the Thanksgiving Day parade. He groaned and forced his eyes open, taking in his surroundings. He was in the basement, but that wasn’t as bad as it sounded. His father had refinished the basement several years ago, making it into a sort of hangout and game room. Roxas was lying on the futon, his arms stretched above his head, and the television was absently playing one of Namine’s favorite sitcoms. He listened to the cheesy dialogue and recorded laughter for a moment before trying to sit up.

There was a jingling sound and he was suddenly aware of a strange cold weight entrapping his wrists. Despite the pounding in his head, he tried to jerk himself free but to no avail. Further attempted movement revealed that his ankles appeared to be in just the same state. He couldn’t move! Craning his neck, he peered to where his hands had been pulled above his head, hoping this was just some weird side effect of whatever had caused him to pass out at dinner. When he finally laid eyes on his wrists, his heart stopped. 

They were shackled to the metal frame of the futon with an impressive padlock. A quick jerk of his head revealed that his ankles were also chained to the bottom of the futon, preventing his movement entirely. He could only turn his head and squirm a little. The chains were pulled taut, stretching his body in the same way the rack would have but not to the point of pain.

It took Roxas a moment to find his voice. Then, he shouted, “Namine! Help me! Namine!”

The television’s volume lowered slightly and Namine rose from an overstuffed armchair a few feet away. How had Roxas not seen her when she was sitting so close? Maybe it was the sudden change in her wardrobe… He had never seen her wearing anything like what she wore now. Though she still wore pale colors and lace, her breasts swelled over the neckline of her low-cut dress and it was far too short so that it revealed much of her long limber legs. She was wearing high heels with a dangerous point and he was suddenly filled with worry that she would fall and break her ankles.

“Namine!” he gasped out. “What happened? Try to find something to unlock these chains.”

Her red mouth was set in a flat line, neither a smile nor a frown, and Roxas couldn’t read any of her expression. He could see himself reflected in her deep blue eyes. When she opened her pale hand like the petals of a flower blooming and showed him a shining silver key, he didn’t know what to think.

“You already have the key?” he sputtered. “Quick! Let me go.”

Namine came to sit beside him on the futon without a word. He caught a glimpse of her lacy panties before he looked away sharply. She was his sister, for god’s sake. 

“Namine!” he half-shouted at her. His heart was pounding like a drum.

“Roxas,” she began softly, “Do you think I need to be protected?”

Roxas stared at her, but he couldn’t see anything of her face save the curve of her pale jaw and the bright spot of color that was her lips. She was facing the television, her back to him, and she held both the remote and the key to his chains in her lap.

“Don’t you?” he breathed out, harshly reminded of the conversation they had had in the kitchen. “Namine?”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t,” she said. “I can take care of myself. I’m more like father than you ever will be.” Then, she turned her eyes on him and they were like searing spotlights that burned him down to a list of faults. “Can’t you see that?”

Roxas shivered beneath her gaze, but dredged up all his strength to strain against the restraints on his wrists and ankles. “This isn’t funny, Namine. Let me go,” he demanded. 

“I don’t need your protection, Roxas,” she said icily with her strong eyes spearing into him like blades of ice. “And I don’t much care for you trying to dictate everything I do. It’s not your job to watch over me like I’m some kind of prize. You’re not my father—hell, you’re barely my brother.”

Roxas’s blood ran cold at the implication laced in her words. “What?”

“You’re not much of a big brother at all, Roxas,” Namine said coolly with a smirk. She pressed her hand to his chest, just over the racing beat of his heart. “Your breath is so heavy,” she murmured as she leaned over him on the futon. “Are you frightened of me? Of your sister?”

“Namine,” he said firmly. “Cut it out.”

Her ruby-red lips pulled into a smile that was very predatory with all her white perfect teeth. “In fact, I think you’d make a better little sister than I do,” she purred silkily. “Don’t you think so? I could call you Roxanne and I could be the big sister.”

Roxas had been struggling against the chains, but now he froze beneath her hands. “What do you mean?” His voice was frail and translucent like a sheaf of silk.

Namine ran her fingers down the side of his face, stroked her thumb over his lower lip, and leaned in as if she planned to kiss him with a soft girlish giggle. The scent of her perfume was overwhelming, swirling around Roxas like a potent toxin. Abruptly, he jerked his face away from her hold, watching her with wide eyes.

“Namine,” he gasped out. “What are you—?”

She pressed her finger to his lips, silencing him with a pout of her full lips.

Then, she sighed heavily and lifted the remote to aim at the television set like a weapon. She scrolled to the password on the cable box that unlocked the adult channels and punched in the code on the first try. Immediately, pages and pages of pornographic titles fanned across the screen with vulgar pictures beside them. Namine leafed through them until she found what she was looking for and pressed play. The sounds of pained cries filled the basement, rattling Roxas’s nerves.

“What the—?”

Namine hushed him, dipping her thin hand behind his neck and lifting his head so he could look nowhere but at the television. Images danced across it, filmed from several different angles. A woman’s spread legs, the shine of the wetness between her thighs, the length of a man sliding in and out of her body. Then, she was whimpering in pain as a second man filled her from beneath, pushing into a place where sex did not belong. She began to plead with her partners, her voice small and thin.

Namine changed the channel so that it was filled with the flash of a whip descending. A man was screaming, but the sound was muffled by a gag. His mouth was downturned with pain and fear, but his eyes were covered by a silken blindfold. A tall beautiful dominatrix in full black leather was beating his exposed buttocks and genitals, strutting her body confidently. She slammed her booted foot into his chest and hissed out at him, “You may lick my boots, filthy dog.” And the man did, desperately, through his pain.

Swiftly, Namine began changing the channels so that the screen was filled with violent flashes of images. Here, a woman being raped. There, one was moaning in pleasure. A teenager writhing beneath a man dressed as a teacher, a close up of a man’s swollen genitals begging for release, a hideous angle of a dual-ended dildo driving into women. But Roxas finally managed to wrest his head from her grasp. Still, the sounds of pleasure mingling with pain—the heated slap-slap of flesh, the crack of a whip, the rumble of a vibrator—drilled through his head like a jackhammer through concrete.

“Stop it!” he shouted at her. “Stop! You can’t watch this!”

Namine rose from the futon and shut off the television. “I like to watch pornography, just like you do. It gets me off.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Roxas snapped at her. “Now, unchain me. This is going too far.”

Namine’s lips pulled into a thin smile, wicked beneath the blood-colored shine of her glittering lipstick. “Oh, dear Roxy,” she purred. “You still don’t understand, do you?”

He jerked against the chains, his muscles straining against the cuffs, but he was still unable to free himself. 

Namine giggled again, pressing her lips behind the bars of her fingers. She had painted her nails with clear gloss and her long lovely fingers were perfect. Smoothly, she dropped the key to his chains in the middle of the floor and then slipped her white blouse from her shoulders. Her skin was like porcelain, like mother of pearl, shining and beautiful beneath the fall of her silky chemise. She dropped it to the floor beside the key carelessly and walked back towards the chair where she had been sitting in shadows earlier. Her hips swayed like ocean waves and she bent languidly to pick something up from the seat of the chair. Again, her panties flashed and Roxas looked away.

“Namine,” he rasped out, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Stop. Let me go.”

She turned slowly, the light playing on her beautiful face like a caress. In her left hand she held the leather handle of a short whip, in her right a pair of strong scissors that she used to cut thick paper for her scrapbooking. Her sharp heels clicked on the floor as she approached where Roxas was pinned to the futon. “Dearest brother,” she purred. “I think it’s time we reversed our roles.”

X X X

Questions, comments, concerns?

Drop me a review!


	2. Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend

It's pouring rain here.

X X X

The scissors were as cold as ice on Roxas’s skin as Namine carved a path through his t-shirt. He thrashed beneath her hands, struggling with all his might to break free. The frame of the futon groaned but was no closer to breaking now than it had been when Namine and Roxas had jumped on it gleefully as children. The bed was sturdy, reinforced, just like their father had been, just like Namine was. The freezing touch of the scissors scraped painfully against the hollow of Roxas’s belly and he hissed.

Namine laid her hand over the red scrape. It was shallow, too shallow to have drawn blood. “Don’t thrash so much, Roxy,” she said silkily. “I don’t want to damage you. You have such pretty skin, after all.”

Roxas still jerked beneath her hands, his flesh prickling with goose bumps as she finished cutting the shirt and pushed open the halves of it to reveal all of his naked chest. “Namine, stop,” he said. “Stop, okay? This has gone far enough.”

“Has it?” she asked him, looking down with her dark blue eyes. “Has it really?”

“Yes,” he continued. “Okay. I get it. I won’t do anything anymore. I’ll just let you live your life.”

Namine paused, running her fingertips down the top of the cool scissors. “Hmm,” she murmured thoughtfully. “But what if that’s not what I want anymore?”

He tugged at the cuffs, rattling the chains that bound him. “What do you want, Namine? Do you want me to apologize?”

“No,” she said. “Honestly, Roxy, I just want…” she paused, giggling as she cut the shoulders of his shirt so that she could pull it from him completely. “I just want to be the older sibling. I want to dictate what you can and cannot do. I want to watch you, to protect you, to keep you close. Exactly like you’ve been doing to me.”

The cool tip of the scissors trailed across Roxas’s naked chest, leaving a light red scratch in its wake and prying a shiver from his body. Deliberately, Namine began to trace a path around his nipple with the very tip of the scissors. Then, with a light laugh, she rasped the entire length of the cool metal over his nipple until it was raised into a peak from the chill and the stimulation.

“Namine,” Roxas forced out. “Stop. Just stop.”

“No,” she said plainly, moving the scissors to do the same to his other nipple. “I want to do this. I’ve always wanted to do this. And now, I finally have a chance to.”

Roxas wanted to squirm, but the sharp point of the scissors pressing to such a sensitive place on his body kept him still. Despite everything, the sensations that washed across his chest were causing his body to react. He could already feel the blood rushing to his groin despite the entire situation, despite the fact that he was bound to the futon, despite the fact that Namine was his sister, despite that she was obviously in the midst of some sort of mental break…

“Namine,” he said again. “Stop. Unchain me.”

With a terrible sound, she snapped open the scissors and laid them threateningly around his nipple. “You don’t get to order me around anymore, Roxy,” she said coldly. “I’m the big sister now and you’re the little sister. You have to listen to me.”

Roxas’s throat worked as he tried to swallow. Fear prickled all along the base of his scalp. “Namine,” he tried again, but she cut him off.

She closed the scissors slightly so that the blades just touched his nipple on either side. She pressed the fingers of her free hand to her mouth and giggled sweetly, “Lord help the mister who comes between me and my sister.”

Roxas’s blood ran cold. “Namine!”

But she turned her attention rather suddenly away from his bare chest. She unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his jeans and yanked them to his ankles. Roxas struggled, trying to turn to the side so she couldn’t see the shameful evidence of the tiny part of him that was aroused by this. Namine knelt on the side of the futon, pressing her hand to his hip and scrutinizing the exact place he didn’t want her to look.

“Why, Roxy,” she said simply, “I do believe you have a little something extra here. Are you enjoying this, you pervert?” Then, with the very tip of her finger, she flicked the head of his erection through his boxers.

Roxas yelped, trying to squirm away from her, but the strength in her hand was surprisingly strong. She held him there, pinned, like a butterfly beneath glass. She lifted the scissors and a lick of icy-cold fear raced up Roxas’s spine. He was suddenly terrified that she might have completely lost it. Maybe their father’s death had broken her. Maybe she planned to kill him. But Namine instead simply cut away his boxers and tossed them aside with the ruins of his shirt.

Roxas managed to find his voice, but nothing truly sensible came out. “Why spare my jeans?” he asked her.

For a moment, she just stared at him before moving to answer. “It wasn’t worth the effort. Denim is very hard to cut,” she said and then smiled in a way that was all teeth, “but I could cut them if you’d like. Do you want to be completely naked beneath me?”

Roxas didn’t answer her, watching as she trailed the point of the scissors teasingly over his thighs. The leather whip was lying beside her, patient, waiting like a coiled snake. Roxas shivered, uncertain, but his body still reacted to every little motion of Namine’s hand. His erection was straining, engorged, desperate. She flicked it with the tip of her finger again, listening as he tried to fight back a little moan.

Then, she rose smoothly from the futon and looked down at him. 

For a moment, he wondered what she was thinking. Her face was unreadable and her eyes were like mirrors that reflected nothing. Then, she picked up the key from the middle of the floor and brought it to the restraints at his ankles. For a moment, a brief moment faster than a heartbeat, Roxas thought this was all over. He thought she was going to free him and they could put this entire strange debacle behind them. But the moment passed swiftly. Instead, Namine freed his ankles and pulled his jeans the rest of the way off. Completely naked, Roxas was helpless beneath her.

“There now,” she said sweetly and stepped back to admire her handwork once again. “You know… I think you need some panties. Every woman needs a pair of pretty panties to make them feel sexy.”

“Namine,” he began. 

But she cut him off by smoothly reaching beneath her lacy skirt and pulling off her own panties. He saw the wet shine of her arousal in the crotch of them and his mouth ran dry. She moved to the foot of the futon and began to slide her panties over his ankles. Roxas, in a sudden surge of awareness, kicked out at her. His foot connected between her breasts, forcing her to stumble back. Her eyes flashed like lightning, sharp and hot and fierce. 

“Naughty,” she hissed out. 

Then, letting the panties dangle from her free hand, she picked up the short leather whip and lashed a quick blow across Roxas’s chest. The sound was so loud and sudden that, for a moment, he almost didn’t feel the sting of the whip. Then, the burning heat seared in a perfect line across his ribs and he cried out sharply. His erection bounced wildly, jockeyed by his thrashing and the sudden blow to his body. A little spike of pleasure found its way there and settled.

“Namine!” he shouted.

She merely smiled as she struck him again. At first, she focused her stinging blows on his upper chest and slowly moved lower as the skin began to welt and redden. Roxas did his best to bite back his cries because they obviously pleased her, but he found that if he did so, she only struck him harder. When she moved to lashing the tender skin of his stomach, always being careful to let the white-hot pain fade before whipping him again, he was nearly in tears.

“Namine,” he pleaded. “Stop, please. Stop.”

His chest and stomach were a mess of welts and scrapes and yet the skin had not been broken to draw blood. His nipples were swollen, having been struck multiple times by Namine’s precision. The pain, which had at first teased his erection, had overwhelmed any pleasure he might have once felt and his member now lay flaccid against his thighs. His entire body was quivering, drawn taut by the pain of the constant whippings. How long had she been beating him? It felt like an eternity.

“Namine, please, stop.”

She smiled down at him, so beautiful, so white and fair and pale, like a princess in a storybook. Then, in a display of cruelty that he never would have expected from his dear sister, she slashed the whip expertly across his limp genitals. The pain was beyond anything he had felt before. He couldn’t stop himself from screaming.

“Oh, Roxy.” Namine’s voice seemed to come from a long way off, distant and small. 

Roxas became aware that she was touching him gently, her cool thin hands caressing the heated welts on his chest. Then, he felt the whisper of her soft golden hair as she bent down to press a soft kiss to the bruised skin of his stomach. She feathered a short path from his navel to his collarbones, teasing his skin with the tenderest of kisses. Her tongue rasped suddenly over his aching nipple, warm and wet and blissfully gentle. He whimpered softly.

“Do you like that, Roxy?” she purred. “Are you ready for your panties now? Or shall I hit you some more?”

Roxas tensed, but there seemed to be no choice. His entire torso was a web of throbbing hot pain and if Namine were to strike his genitals with that whip again, he was fairly certain his screaming would wake the dead, if not the neighbors. (No matter how horribly things were going right now, he still didn’t want anyone to find him like this.)

“Well?” Namine asked sweetly.

“I’m ready,” Roxas forced out.

She giggled delightedly. “Wonderful.” 

Again, she moved to the foot of the futon and slipped her panties over his freed ankles. She guided them over his thighs and hips, tucking his flaccid member beneath the lace with the very tips of her fingers as if she didn’t want to touch that part of him. The wetness of her arousal had gone cold in the time she had been beating him and now lay soaked and unpleasant against the underside of his member. He shuddered, biting his lower lip.

“There,” she said. “You look wonderful, just like a real girl.”

“Namine, I’m not—”

She lifted the whip over her head, her eyes as dark as the deepest ocean, and Roxas cut himself off sharply, wincing into the thin futon mattress. But the agonizing blow he had been expecting never fell. The very tip of the whip ghosted along his chest, raising goose bumps on his skin, as Namine giggled. Then, she made a hard sound in her throat like a bird.

“Weren’t you listening to me earlier?” Her voice was as hard and cold as diamond. “I said we’d be switching roles. Now, you’re my little sister.”

Roxas’s mouth went dry, but he worked to speak. Some distant small part of his mind insisted that this was only a joke, a dream, a nightmare—not real, not really happening. “Oh yeah?” he asked her. “Are you going to be the big brother, then?”

The whip cracked hard across his stomach, finally splitting the badly-bruised skin there. He cried out sharply and Namine pressed her cool fingers just on either side of the injury. She was smiling thinly, her brows drawn together with anger and her eyes dark like chasms.

Then, she turned back to the chair that was still cloaked in shadows and deposited her whip and scissors onto it. Sensuously, her curves catching the light like a dancer, she slipped out of her lacy skirt and lifted her thin camisole over her head. For a moment, she considered her bra and unhooked it smoothly, letting it slide down her shoulders without taking it off. She began to hum softly to herself in that absent sort of way that she usually did when she was trying to decide something.

While she was distracted, Roxas pulled his legs to his chest and rolled onto his side. His beaten skin seared with pain at the movement, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He turned his head, craning his neck so that he could see the cuffs that restrained his wrists. He tugged at them, but they were no closer to giving way now than they had been when he first woke in this hellish situation. The key was still lying in the middle of the floor where it had fallen from Namine’s hand when he had kicked her.

“I could be the brother…” 

Namine’s voice was sudden in the silence and Roxas quickly whipped his head back around to look at her. She was stepping into a sort of harness that wrapped around her waist, thighs, and buttocks. The straps were ink against her pale porcelain skin, standing out like tattoos. Then, even as Roxas watched, she pulled it up the rest of the way to settle against her hips and pubic bone. It pressed there as if it was made for her and standing out like a proud pole was a bright purple dildo. 

Roxas’s blood ran cold. “Namine, what are you…?”

“I could be the brother,” Namine continued with a smirk, “if I wanted to.”

She plucked a tube of lubricant from the mess on the chair and squeezed some into her palm. Smiling, watching the play of emotions on his pale face, she began to stroke the length of her strap-on. It glistened, shining and dripping as lubricant gathered on it. Her naked breasts caught the faint light, half-hidden beneath the fall of her bra.

“I’d say,” she said silkily, “that I’m a pretty big brother, too.” She giggled softly at her own joke as she approached where he was curled up on the futon. She was still wearing her high-heels and the click-click of the heels sounded like a gun cocking. 

“Namine!” Roxas wanted to shout, but his voice came out a whisper. “You can’t—”

“Sure I can,” she told him, running her fingertips over the curve of his thigh. “I know how.”

Roxas shivered beneath her hand, trembling as she touched him with her damp fingers. “You can’t do this,” he whispered.

Namine studied him a moment, wetting her lips as she ran her fingers down the length of the purple phallus. “Oh?” she said finally and smiled with understanding. “I know why you’re acting like this. You’re afraid of being penetrated by something bigger than you are, aren’t you?”

Roxas’s eyes widened and he pulled his legs closer to his chest, hoping to hide from her within his own body. “Namine, stop—”

“Don’t worry,” Namine continued. “This one it average-sized so if it looks big to you, it’s just because you’re smaller than average, Roxy. Maybe you’ll grow.”

“Stop!”

She took off her bra and dropped it over his chest. “Do you want to wear this? It matches your panties.”

“No—”

“Right,” she murmured as if she hadn’t heard him, as if she couldn’t see the expression on his face. “It would probably hurt your nipples, wouldn’t it? They’re still so swollen.”

Roxas tried to jerk away as she slipped her hand between his knees and chest, pinching his nipple softly. Even so, he yelped and thrashed away from her touch. Moving from his curled position proved to be exactly what she wanted though. Quickly, she gripped his hips, rolled him onto his stomach, and moved to straddle him. Her weight pressing into his lower back was enough to prevent him from breaking free. He could feel the long slick girth of the strap-on against his back.

“Namine, please,” he whispered. “Don’t.”

“Admit that you’re my little sister,” she said coolly.

Roxas’s heart pounded against his ribs as he hesitated. What would happen if he agreed with her? Would she let him go or would she continue on this warped path? If he denied her, would she beat him again? Would she use that dildo on his body? What would she do?”

“I’m waiting,” she said in her sweet sing-song voice. “Well, Roxy?”

He swallowed, feeling the sting of all the lashes on his chest and stomach. “Namine,” he began.

“Wrong answer.”

She slid down his back slightly, keeping her weight on his back and knees so that he couldn’t get enough leverage to break free. He heard the awful squelch as she squeezed more lubricant out of the tube and felt a warm droplet land on the naked flesh of his buttocks. His blood ran cold and blind panic gripped him.

“Namine, no! You can’t do this! Stop!”

The crack of her hand was more surprising than painful. The sound was loud, ringing in his ears like the pulse of blood. “Didn’t I already explain this to you, dearest?” she said fiercely. “I want to be the older sibling. If you can’t admit that you’re my little sister, I’ll just craft you into her. I’ll change you—I’ll beat you and use you—until you beg to be released. Now, are you ready, Roxy?”

X X X

Questions, comments, concerns?

Review!


	3. Tough Lover

Happy Day-After Thanksgiving!

I don’t know what’s wrong with me… I’m addicted to the color purple…

X X X

Namine pushed aside the lacy barrier of the panties she had put on him, giggling softly. Her fingers were cool and the lubricant was chilling on Roxas’s most intimate flesh. He thrashed wildly beneath her, the cuffs biting into his wrists, but was unable to dislodge her weight and break free. 

“Namine, please, don’t—”

But she ignored his cries. Instead, she pinned his hips between her knees to minimize the thrashing and pushed one finger into him without warning. The lubricant made it easy, but Roxas still cried out when she did so. Namine made a soft sound in her throat as his muscles clenched at the intrusion. He panted hoarsely into the thin futon mattress, gasping in pain and shock. 

“T-take it out.”

She added a second finger, the lubricant squeezing past the tight ring of muscles and oozing between his cheeks. He shuddered at the foreign feeling, the muscles of his naked back rippling. She hushed him softly, running the fingers of her other hand down his back comfortingly while she began to move her fingers inside him. She scissored them, stretching and spreading the muscles, feeling his body react and reject her.

“Does it hurt?” she murmured.

“Yes,” Roxas hissed. 

“You’ll get used to it, Roxy. Soon, you might even enjoy it.”

Roxas snarled deep in his chest and pulled together all the strength he still possessed. He ripped himself from beneath her with surging suddenness, but her fingers were still inside him and any natural instinct was to grab on before one fell. Namine’s fingers curled, clutching at the walls of his insides, her nails raking into him. But even as he felt the searing pain and realized what was happening, it was already too late to stop. He threw her aside and she hit the floor with a painful thud that was lost to the sound of Roxas screaming.

Tears leaked beneath his lids, streaming down his face. He had had his fair share of broken bones, bruises, and skinned knees over the years, but nothing was as painful as this. Namine’s manicured nails had hurt him almost as much as the sudden tearing spread of his muscles had. The sudden weight of her fall had pulled him open in a way that the human body was never designed to stretch. 

Namine remained seated beside the futon, watching him from her new position on the floor. “I thought you would have known better than to thrash like that,” she muttered. “You should have known that you would get hurt.”

Roxas didn’t answer her. He just remained crumpled on the futon, whimpering in pain.

“Have you learned your lesson?” Namine continued, rising from the floor like a folded paper swan. 

Her breasts were pale and perfect like ripe peaches, decorated with soft nipples and without any flaws. A small neatly-trimmed patch of golden curls guarded the place between her legs and her thighs glistened with arousal. Namine’s body was beautiful, but Roxas looked away. He felt sick to his stomach.

“Let me go,” he whispered.

“Oh, no, dearest Roxy,” Namine murmured. “I’m just getting started.”

He didn’t have the will to fight her as she moved over him again. He lay beneath her, boneless and curled within himself. Namine adjusted his hips, helping him to lay flat beneath her. She squeezed more lubricant directly onto his puckered entrance, making him shiver. Then, for a long moment, he felt nothing but her fingers as she probed deeply into him. He supposed that she was making sure he hadn’t been seriously injured, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The pain still throbbed in the recesses of his mind.

“Roxy?” Namine asked softly and he heard her began to stroke more lubricant onto her purple strap-on.

He didn’t answer.

“You won’t be able to ignore me for long,” Namine murmured. 

Then, she wrapped her hands beneath his hips, lifted them slightly, and pressed the swollen head of the purple phallus to his puckered hole. At first, he barely felt the shaft press into him beyond the searing pain that he already felt in his backside. Abruptly though, the agony of being filled rushed to overwhelm him. He squirmed beneath her, crying out, as she pushed the length of the dildo within him entirely. When he finally felt her hips meet his buttocks, he nearly sobbed in relief. It was so long, so achingly long, compressing everything in his intestines until he thought he would burst…

“You can practically taste it, can’t you, Roxy?” Namine purred and pressed her lips to the sensitive skin at the base of his neck. “It’s my favorite because it’s so long.”

“Namine,” he whimpered. “Take it out, please… it hurts.”

“I know it does,” she said soothingly, “but girls put up with this pain for a man every time they couple together. Do you think it’s so romantic to be filled to the brim?”

“My body’s not meant for—”

She thrust her hips in a quick jerk that cut off his words with a cry. 

His fingers knotted in the futon’s mattress, knuckles going white from strain. “It h-hurts—!”

But Namine gave him no respite to adjust to the horrible feeling of being stretched to his limits. She began to rock into him firmly, the long length of the phallus sliding along his insides like a caress. The lubricant oozed down his thighs, but allowed for easy movement. She wouldn’t break him, not completely.

“Do you like this, Roxy?” Namine whispered against the shell of his ear.

He shuddered, whimpering, “N-no.”

She continued to move, rotating her hips slightly. He crumpled beneath her, barely able to breathe as the long dildo pressed his body to the core. Then, Namine guided him to raise his hips and there was an explosion of blistering white like he had never felt before. He cried out, practically screaming.

“That’s your clitoris,” Namine said matter-of-factly. 

Some distant part of Roxas’s mind wanted to protest, but the thought was lost in the heated wave of pleasure that rocked through his body in the wake of being touched there. His member had been lying limp within Namine’s soaked panties, but now began to awaken and flush with blood. It hardened, straining against the elastic, and he moaned softly.

Namine continued to thrust the phallus into him, rubbed the long length of it against his prostate until he was nearly undone. Lying facedown in the futon’s thin mattress, Roxas shuddered in pleasure as she quickened her pace and began to pound into him like she was driving nails into a board. She was making little sounds of delight behind him, her hands ghosting along his back like butterflies. Roxas could only cling to the frame of the futon, gasping, as she rode him. 

A coil was winding in his lower belly, building to an unbearable level. He needed to be touched, but his hands were shackled and… Namine’s voice broke into his thoughts, crashing through like a ship sinking through ice. There was no return from this point.

“Do you like this, Roxy?” she asked, her voice high with pleasure. “Tell me you like it.”

“Namine—please—touch me,” Roxas choked out. His voice cracked and broke like ice when liquor was poured over it. “Please—touch me! I need it!”

Namine angled the dildo deeper inside him, rubbing along that secret place inside him. She leaned close, her long hair whispering against his back, and her hands twined beneath his chest. She ghosted her light touch over his beaten stomach, over the curve of his ribs, over his bruises and welts. Then, she gently settled her fingers over his swollen nipples and tweaked them lightly. She rolled her thumbs over the pert nubs, bringing the edge only a thread closer.

“No,” he begged, “not there—Namine—lower!”

She froze behind him, her hips going still, and he nearly whimpered at the loss of her movement. When she stopped though, he realized what he had been doing. He realized that he had been begging his sister to touch him, to jerk him off, to help him enjoy being raped like a girl from behind.

“What did you say?” Namine breathed out.

“Nothing,” Roxas said. He hoped she would get off of him and leave, but nothing was that simple anymore. 

“Good,” she purred instead.

With a jolt, Roxas realized he had somehow told her exactly what she wanted to hear. 

“After all, Roxy,” she continued. “You’re my precious little sister.”

She began to move again, grinding her hips into him. Now that she knew exactly where his sweet spot was, she wasted no time in making sure to rub against it with every thrust of her hips. The long phallus slid achingly along his insides, smooth and wet and lavishing over every sensitive place. Though Roxas tried to fight it, thinking of granny-panties and his strong dead father, nothing chased away the pleasure he felt. Again, the coil was there in his belly, building up like a dam trying to hold back lava.

“Namine—stop,” he choked out. “I’m going to—”

“Go ahead, Roxy,” she purred. “Cum for me.” Sharply, she slapped his buttocks hard with the flat of her palm. 

Roxas yelped, his body jerking beneath her, and he felt the slide of the phallus go in ever deeper. “N—”

“Cum just from having your ass pounded, Roxy,” she said and the profanity was shocking coming from her. “Cum just from that.”

Roxas gripped the frame of the futon, trying to anchor himself in a world that was suddenly nothing but sensations. His chest ached where it was pressed into the bed, bruises and welts standing out. Pleasure flooded his body like heat, filling his every pore as she drove into him. His nipples chaffed against the rough coverlet, caught somewhere between pleasure and pain. He opened his mouth, maybe to try to speak, but he suddenly couldn’t remember as Namine’s strap-on rubbed against the length of his prostate. He shuddered beneath her, trembling. 

Then, there was nothing but blinding pleasure. It was pale and beautiful, like Namine was, interspersed with stars of blue and gold. 

Roxas collapsed on the futon beneath her, boneless and aching. His member twitched against his stomach, pinned there by Namine’s panties. As the wave of pleasure abated, he became aware of his own warm semen splattering on his chest. A little wave of nausea welled up in his chest, coupled there with the pain of being whipped.

Namine pulled the strap-on out of his body, unbuckled it, and laid it down still glistening with lubricant beside Roxas on the futon. Her thighs shone with wetness and the muscles quivered with delight. “Now, little sister, return the favor,” she whispered and came to kneel on the futon near Roxas’s head.

He could smell the sweet scent of her arousal, but turned his face away. She sighed heavily, breathing out. He heard Namine move, the rustle of the coverlet as she leaned forward, and half-expected the brutal slap that was delivered to his bare behind. He winced, but didn’t cry out.

“You are most unkind, Roxy,” she murmured. “Why won’t you share the pleasure?”

Roxas didn’t answer, keeping silent in shame and sickness. 

Then, above them in the house, there was the sound of a door opening and slamming closed. Their mother was home from work for the first time in days. Roxas froze, his entire body going cold with the thought that she would come downstairs and find him like this. Namine, on the other hand, merely sighed as if this was a slight inconvenience. She rose from the futon and redressed quickly even though she left her panties on Roxas. Then, with a wicked smile behind her red lipstick and thin fingers, she showed Roxas a stout vibrator. 

“You wouldn’t,” he whispered.

She merely smiled as she pushed it into his body and secured it with her soiled panties so that it wouldn’t slide out of him. She flipped on the vibration with the small remote and Roxas yelped, writhing on the mattress. The head of the vibrator was pressed right to his prostate, wracking his violated body with intense pleasure. He whimpered, choking back small moans as Namine watched him with a grin.

“I’d be careful not to cry out in pleasure to loudly if I were you,” she taunted, dangling the remote in front of his face. “We don’t want our mother to come downstairs and realize that she really has two daughters. It’ll be our little secret.” Then, she headed upstairs to greet their mother, flouncing slightly so that it became obvious she knew she wasn’t wearing panties and wanted to torment him.

Roxas lay on the futon in silence, every fiber of his being straining. Upstairs, he could hear Namine’s conversation with their mother. Their voices carried easily through the basement floor, a testament to just how easily they would hear him if he cried out. If he wanted to, in that moment, he could call for help, but no… He could never let anyone see him like this—in this state.

“Where’s your brother, Namine?” their mother was asking.

“He’s not feeling well,” Namine lied, “so he’s lying down in his room.”

“Oh, poor boy. Should I check on him?”

“No,” Namine assured her. “He’s alright. I’ll bring him something a little later. Why don’t you take a shower and relax?”

Suddenly, the vibration increased powerfully, rattling Roxas’s teeth. He cried out sharply in pleasure before biting down on his lower lip and choking back the sound. Then, he froze, listening in horror to the conversation upstairs.

“What was that?” their mother asked.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Namine said smoothly. “You must be tired. Why don’t you rest?”

“Alright…” Then, there was the sound of her soft footsteps as she went upstairs to her bedroom.

Yet again, the vibration increased. Roxas shuddering, his hands knotting in the coverlet as Namine purposefully wracked him with pleasure to see if he’d cry out loud enough to get them caught. He bit his lip, choking back the noises that were desperate to escape. His member was beginning to rise, hardening with the pleasure that burned through his body. A coil of white-hot pleasure began to twine through his belly, settling deep inside. He was dying to be touched and his hips began to rock against the mattress of their own accord.

He listened to the loud tap-tap of Namine’s high-heels on the floor above, steeling himself. He heard her open the fridge, heard the faucet running, heard her begin to sing, and all the while the vibration deep inside him only increased. A little moan escaped him. His erection quivered, straining against the elastic of Namine’s panties and rasping against the rough coverlet as he thrust helplessly against it. Finally, unable to contain it, he cried out as his second orgasm rocked him.

He heard Namine laugh and then turn on the television, settling in to watch a movie. The vibration remained deep inside him, buzzing, encouraging his body to respond once again. She couldn’t really intend to leave him down here, could she? She wouldn’t really leave this vibrator inside him, leaving him to be wracked with pleasure over and over until he was totally spent? Would she?

“Hey Mom,” Namine’s voice came through the floor. “Want to watch a movie with me?”

Roxas couldn’t hear his mother’s reply beyond his own sudden whimper of pleasure. 

He lay on the futon, his heart pounding. He tried to contain himself, to think of something other than the intense vibration rocking through his entire core. He reminded himself that if his mother came into the basement and found him like this—only God knew how she would look at him after that, if she could look at him at all. Still so sensitive from his previous orgasm, his member soon hardened again and the coil of pleasure was taut in his lower belly. He whimpered, trying to hold it back, but it was no use. He came hard, biting back a loud cry.

Upstairs, Namine turned up the volume on the television. Roxas heard recorded laughter and recognized this as one of Namine’s favorite television shows. His heart sank. She wouldn’t be coming down to release him any time soon, but he had never thought his little sister could be this cruel.

‘Not your little sister,’ a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. ‘Your big sister, Roxy.’

But he chased that traitorous voice away and tried not to focus on the burning pleasure that was working its way through his entire body. He listened to Namine’s laughter and tried to be quiet so his mother wouldn’t find him, naked and in Namine’s panties. He listened to the television and tried to fight back another impending orgasm. He listened and he tried, but still… it didn’t change anything. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the hum of the vibrator inside him, and his own little mewls and whimpers as he tried to fight off the pleasure.

It felt like an eternity passed after that.

When Namine finally came downstairs, her high-heels clicking like knives being sharpened, Roxas was barely able to keep his eyes open. He was exhausted, his body limp and spent even as his erection remained hard and aching, throbbing with sensitive wonderful agony as the vibrator continued to pry endless orgasms from him. His face and battered chest were splattered with pearly semen. The vibrator had spread him wide, his relaxed muscles welcoming the intrusion. 

Namine paused beside the futon, studying him for a long moment.

Roxas wondered what she was seeing, what she was thinking, what she was feeling. What did she see when she looked down at her strong overprotective brother lying nearly-naked and violated on the futon by her own hand? Did she like what she was seeing? Did she feel guilt or shame to have done this to him? What was she thinking now? Did she feel anything at all behind the veil of her fingers pressed to the crimson smile on her mouth?

As Roxas looked up at her, he knew that he certainly didn’t see his beautiful loving little sister anymore. Well, he did—but he also saw something else. He saw the sister who had dominated and emasculated him, humiliated and raped him. He saw a sadistic girl, beautiful and terrible, monstrous and lovely, pleasurable and yet so painful. Her bright blue eyes were as fierce and powerful as their dead father’s, stronger than Roxas’s would ever be.

“How are you feeling, Roxy?” Namine asked. She took the remote for the vibrator from the waistband of her skirt and turned it off.

Roxas’s body sagged in relief and he breathed out hard. His mouth tasted like blood. Had he bitten through his lip with all his efforts to keep his voice silent?

Namine smiled down at him like a benevolent angel with a painted face. Then, she revealed her small digital camera, her expression twisted with cruelty, and she said, “Say cheese,” a moment before the flash blinded Roxas.

“Namine!” he protested, turning his face away from the camera. “Stop it!”

“Turn this way so I can see how pretty you look in my panties, Roxy.” She snapped multiple pictures relentlessly, giggling girlishly behind her hand. Her lips were painted bright red and shining with glitter and yet her smile was horrible.

“Namine, stop! Don’t do this! That’s enough!”

She toed his prone form, rolling him over so that she could see the tip of his erection peeking out over the hem of the lacy panties along with the straining circle of fabric where the dildo was pressing out of him. She took several more pictures like this, ignoring his pleas.

“Don’t shout, Roxy,” she warned him. “You’ll wake up Mom.”

Then, delicately with the tips of her fingers, she peeled off the soiled lace panties and tossed them carelessly aside. Though Roxas tried to fight her, his body was too exhausted to put up might of a struggle. Without much trouble, Namine spread his legs and photographed the vibrator shoved deep inside him. 

“That’s enough, Namine,” Roxas forced out. “That’s enough. I’ll do what you want. Okay? Just stop.”

Namine smiled broadly, showing her perfect white teeth. “Of course you will, Roxy,” she said. “You wouldn’t want anyone to see these pictures, would you?”

“I get it, Namine,” Roxas mumbled. “I’ll leave you alone. I’ll stay out of our life.”

She shook her head, her golden hair feathering against her cheeks. “No, no, Roxy. It’s not that simple,” she said. “I told you already. I want to be the big sister and I want you to be the little sister.” She stretched out her hand to cup the press of the vibrator sticking out of his body and pushed it in deeper so that he cried out. “You’d best get used to this, Roxy…”

X X X

Questions, comments, concerns?

Review!


	4. The Key to My Heart

The rain has stopped, but it’s freezing!

X X X

Roxas and Namine’s mother returned to work after that as if she had nothing else to live for. She came home maybe once a week to make sure the house was still standing and to check on Namine. She asked about Roxas, but she still couldn’t look at him. Roxas wondered if she’d ever notice that Namine’s eyes were far more like her dead husband’s than Roxas’s were, but Namine hid her sadistic nature easily behind glitter gloss and smiles. 

It was soon after that that Roxas’s life became a map of small cruelties in places where no one could see. He could do nothing to protest Namine’s actions, not when she held those horrible pictures over his head. The changes, at first, were subtle. 

First, Namine threw out all his boxers and replaced them with lacy panties in all colors and styles. When he tried to ask her about it, she merely smiled that mean little smile of hers beneath all her red lipstick. So Roxas bought some new boxers and soon found them replaced with thongs. After that, he tried to just go without, but Namine warned him. Her warning was like the rattle of a snake about to strike, promising poison if he didn’t heed her. 

So he wore the panties. It wasn’t as if anyone could tell, anyway, and if it kept Namine happy, what did it matter? At first, that was all. For a while, she was content, but when he looked at her, he saw the strength of their dead father in her eyes and the thinly-veiled sadism that lay behind the sheen of her lipstick and fingers. 

…

Xion spotted Roxas in the cafeteria at lunch time. He was sitting at a table in the corner, his homework spread out around him, dutifully working on it. His pale golden hair caught the sunlight and it dappled his skin—he was so handsome. His pretty sister, Namine, was beside him and she was drawing busily in a sketchpad. Looks must run in that family, Xion thought as she tugged a little nervously at her purple dress embroidered with flowers. She didn’t often wear dresses, but the color complimented her dark hair and pale eyes perfectly. 

“Hey Roxas,” she said with a smile as she set down her books at his elbow.

He looked up, his blue eyes shining like jewels. “You look nice, Xion,” he offered.

Xion thought she saw Namine’s pink lips twist downwards, but when she looked over at Roxas’s sister, she was smiling.

“Doing your homework, eh?” Xion asked. “I thought you were going to be a career delinquent.”

Roxas grinned at her. “I was trying, but Namine—”

“I can’t let my dearest brother have poor grades,” Namine put in. The pretty smile on her face took veiled the bite in her words.

“You’re pretty strong-willed to be able to turn Roxas around,” Xion remarked. 

Namine’s smile widened and little chill ran through Roxas’s blood. 

“Oh,” she said. “I am.”

Xion stared at Namine for a moment, trying to decipher what exactly she was seeing and hearing. Namine was so pretty with her platinum hair and bright sapphire eyes. She was like a jewel, like a flower, like Marilyn Monroe dressed up in sequins and roses and yet there was something else about her. 

It was oleander, Xion realized with a jolt. Oleander bloomed in the deepest deserts, more beautiful and brightly-colored than any cactus. From a distance, the blossoms looked soft and fragile, star-shaped and fleeting in pinks, reds, and whites like a wedding. But oleander was deadly poisonous despite all its beauty.

That was what Namine reminded Xion of… 

Oleander blossoms…

“I’ll catch you later, Roxas,” Xion said, suddenly chilled despite the heat and food-smells of the cafeteria. 

“Sure,” Roxas agreed. 

“It was nice to see you, Xion,” Namine called sweetly. 

Xion merely nodded at the pretty girl and hurried away, the scent of flowers following her. Despite all the chatter and people in the cafeteria, Xion suddenly felt very alone and on edge. It was strange though… She had known Roxas and Namine since the beginning of high school and Namine had never given her such a strange vibe before. Maybe, it all had to do with the sudden death of their father.

…

As they walked home together after school that day, Roxas said to Namine, “You didn’t have to be so mean to Xion.” It had snowed the night before and the sidewalk was crunchy with lingering salt to melt the persistent ice. 

“You like her,” Namine said and her words were somewhere between an accusation and a statement. She crunched noisily over bits of ice and salt.

“Of course I do,” Roxas snapped at his sister. “We’re on the swim team together and she’s in my chemistry class.”

“I don’t want you to see her anymore,” Namine said coldly. “You’re attracted to her.”

“What?” Roxas demanded. “You can’t do that.”

Namine didn’t answer as she unlocked the front door of their house. She and Roxas stepped inside and Roxas set down their backpacks on the low table in the foyer. Then, he turned his back to her and flipped on a lamp beneath a Victorian shade. It was then that Namine lashed out at him as quick as any snake striking. Her knee came up hard between his legs from behind, slamming all the breath from his lungs and sending searing pain into its place.

Roxas went down hard, cursing and gasping.

Namine stood over him, her arms folded beneath her breasts. “I said I don’t want you to see her anymore. Am I making myself clear, Roxy?”

Roxas rasped out a curse, clutching between his legs. 

“As punishment,” Namine began. Then, she walked away, leaving him crumpled in the foyer of their home. She returned a moment later from her bedroom carrying the strangest device Roxas had ever seen along with the same short crop she had beaten him with the first time she raped him. 

“What?” he choked out.

“Get up and take off your clothes, Roxy,” Namine said coldly.

He struggled to his feet, but didn’t undress. He just stared at her, hoping that—this time, maybe this time—he would have the willpower to stop her. But Namine’s eyes were like chips of ice, hard and unyielding, just like their father’s had been. Without much choice, Roxas began to pull of his clothing until he was naked before her. She made a hard sound in her throat and then stepped closer to him. Despite himself, Roxas flinched back.

Namine giggled softly. “Are you afraid of me, Roxy?”

He didn’t answer.

She adjusted the strange contraption in her hands and then, being very careful not to touch him, she slipped his flaccid member into the sort of tube and buckled the weird strap just behind his balls. Then, she fit a small lock through the strap and locked it with a small key that she then slipped over her head on a thin chain. As the key settled against her breasts like a pet, Roxas realized what exactly this was and he grabbed at it, trying to struggle free. 

“Namine!” he shouted at her.

“It’s a chastity belt, dear Roxy,” Namine said sweetly. “Now, it’ll hurt very much if you get aroused and you won’t be able to cum unless I decide you can.”

“Take it off!” Roxas demanded. He reached out and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her hard.

Namine knocked his hands away and then struck out with her whip. The painful tip lashed hard across his naked chest, leaving a stinging welt in its wake. “If you don’t want to be all beaten for your swim meet, you’ll just wash up and go to bed, Roxy. Understand, little sister?”

Roxas grit his teeth angrily and turned away, stooping to gather up his clothing.

Namine slashed the whip across his exposed buttocks, prying a cry of pain from him. “I asked you if you understood, little sister,” she hissed.

“I understand,” he snapped at her.

Namine let it go, patient, watchful, her blue eyes gleaming. She slapped the whip lightly in the palm of her other hand until the skin stung lightly. She could hear Roxas struggling and cursing upstairs as he fought with the chastity cage, but it would never come off without the key, without her say-so. Namine smiled to herself.

…

Namine was sitting poolside, watching the swim team’s practice. Xion watched her from the corner of her eye, but it was difficult to focus on too many things at once. She couldn’t very well focus on her own swimming, listen to the coach, study Roxas, and watch Namine all at the same time. Roxas usually matched Xion stroke for stroke, but now, he was laboring beside her. His breath came raggedly, in little pants, and sweat was standing out on his brow despite the cool water.

“Roxas? Are you okay?” Xion asked.

“Fine,” he gasped out. “I’m fine.”

His wet hand slid across her shoulder and caught on the string of her bikini, tugging it dangerously. Xion flushed as she adjusted the little triangle of fabric better over her breast. Roxas looked away, his face pale and his mouth pinched at the corners.

“Are you in pain?” Xion asked.

He shook his head, inhaled water, and began to choke.

Xion swam closer, buoying her arm beneath his shoulder and helping him stay afloat as he hacked up water. Finally, he caught his breath, thanked her, and pulled away. He was looking at something on the sidelines, something that made him go pale. Xion turned to look and saw only Namine, standing there in her jeans and t-shirt, pale and beautiful with the water dancing in her eyes. Namine waved at Xion and smiled, pressing her fingers to her lips.

Roxas began to swim again, his stroke labored enough that he attracted the coach’s attention. Xion returned to her laps while the coach and Namine helped Roxas from the pool. The last thing she saw before diving under the water’s surface was Namine leading Roxas into the bathroom. 

…

“I warned you,” Namine said once she had closed the bathroom door behind herself and locked it. Roxas was lying on the cold wet tile, shivering. Now that his wet swim trunks clung to his body, it was easy to see the bulge of the chastity cage beneath. “I told you that if you got aroused, it would hurt.”

“What do you want from me, Namine?” he demanded. 

“Xion is pretty in her little string bikini, isn’t she?” Namine asked as if she hadn’t heard. 

Roxas groaned, pain racing through him as his member tried to harden but was squeezed painfully by the chastity cage. “Stop it, Namine.”

“Water isn’t much of a lubricant,” Namine said and that was the only warning she gave before jerking him back by his ankle. 

Roxas yelped as she yanked his trunks down around his knees and forced him to rise slightly so that his behind was perfectly angled towards her. “Namine! Stop—”

“Quiet,” she warned him. “Your entire swim team is out there. You don’t want them to hear you, do they?”

“Y-you locked the door,” Roxas said, hoping to call her bluff.

“True,” she admitted, “but they could still make their own guesses even if they don’t see you.”

Roxas’s throat went dry as Namine dumped everything out of her little purse. There were a few small bullet vibrators dangling on their wires like macabre Christmas ornaments, a tube of lipstick, a nail file with a thick handle, and her phone. She quickly put the phone away before it got wet and then set her purse on the rim of the sink.

“Want me to release you?” she asked and the key swung teasingly by the chain at her throat.

“Yes.”

“Beg,” she said.

Roxas bit his lip hard, choking back the words. He wouldn’t give her the pleasure of hearing him beg for anything.

“Don’t want to?” she taunted. “Don’t worry. You will soon enough…” 

Then, she slipped one of the little bullet vibrators into her mouth and pulled it out soaked with saliva. It was an easy matter for her to press it inside him and then turn it on. Roxas cried out, but quickly stifled the cry. His member strained, trying to grow erect, trying to find release. While he was distracted, Namine pushed the second little vibrator into him and turned up the vibration until Roxas felt it in his teeth. He ground down against the cold tile, whimpering.

“Does that feel good, Roxy?” she teased. 

Then, she turned on the third vibrator and lay it against the very outside of his puckered hole, rubbing it in teasing little circles that threatened to turn his knees to jelly. She picked up her nail file and reached beneath his chest, rasping the rough surface over his nipples. Roxas cried out, writhing against her, unable to decide if he wanted to pull away or arch further into her touch. She pushed the third vibrator inside him so that his entire rectum was filled with the pleasurable buzz of them. 

Then, she rose smoothly to her feet, picked up her lipstick, and leaned over the sink to be close to the mirror. Roxas watched, tormented, wracked with pleasure and horrible pain, as she put on glittering lipstick without a care in the world. Then, she hopped nimbly onto the rim of the sink and just sat there, watching him as he writhed against the wet tile. He shuddered, his skin breaking out with goose bumps and sweat. God, it hurt! But if also felt so…

“N-Namine,” he gasped out. “You were going to—ah!—release me.”

She smiled, glitter shining on her lips. “Are you ready to beg, Roxy?”

Before he could say anything, there was a soft knock on the door. “Roxas?” came Xion’s voice. “Are you alright? Practice is over. Let’s walk home together, you and me and Namine. That way, if something happens, we can help you.”

Namine smirked down at him. “Answer her.”

“Xion, I—”

Namine grinned wider as the vibration pried a whimper of anguish from her brother. 

“Are you alright, Roxas?” Xion called.

“Fine,” he gasped. “You go ahead, Xion. I’m going to walk home with N-Namine.”

“Okay,” Xion said and there was the wet slap-slap of her footsteps as she walked away.

Namine smiled. “Well, get up Roxy. We still have to walk home.”

He reached for the wires of the little vibrators hanging out of him, but she stepped on his fingers with a sound not unlike the crunch of salt beneath her boots the day before. He bit his lip and looked up at her, his eyes wide and pained, but it drew no remorse from her. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” she said with a wag of her finger. “You walk home like that. If you’re ready to beg by the time we get there, I might release you.”

“Namine,” he rasped out.

She turned back towards the mirror and began to fix her hair, tucking her nail file and lipstick back into her little purse and then pulling it over her shoulder. She leaned on the sink then, waiting, watching, her smile and teeth predatory like a crocodile hidden among lilies in still water. 

Roxas scraped himself together, his nerves raw and aching. There was a fire between his legs, throbbing insistently, but he couldn’t even touch himself. The cage prevents that and the key was still around Namine’s neck. For a moment, he thought about grabbing the key from her, snapping the chain, and strangling her. But no… she was his little sister. He would protect her, even from himself.

“Big sister, Roxy,” came Namine’s voice.

He jerked his head to look at her, but she was still watching him and it didn’t look as if she had spoken at all. He shook himself, struggled to his feet, pulled up his wet swim trunks, and moved towards the bathroom door. He unlocked it and found that the swim team, including Xion, had already left. The lights were still burning, but it was otherwise deserted. He limped over to his bag and pulled out dry clothes, whimpering as the bullet vibrators moved inside of him.

Namine was still sitting on the sink when he returned with dry clothes and began to painstakingly change. His jeans pressed against the chastity cage, but did nothing to soothe the agony of his engorged member pulsing inside it. The vibrators buzzed, moving inside him with each step as if he was being thrusted into again. Namine jumped down from the sink and walked away, her hips swaying idly, as Roxas followed. He paused at the threshold, gasping, leaning there for support. 

“Namine,” he panted. “I can’t…”

“Then stay here until the janitor finds you,” she said smoothly. “You might be able to get rid of the vibrators, but you’d have to hurt yourself badly to get that cage off. I have the only key.” She tapped a neatly-manicured nail to the key at her throat and smiled. “Well?”

Roxas struggled after her, panting, and the walk home had never felt so long. Even though it was cold, he was sweating horribly. When Namine unlocked the front door and swung it open, Roxas collapsed eagerly inside, panting.

“T-take it off,” he gasped.

Namine set down her purse and checked her lipstick in the mirror. “Beg me, Roxy.”

“No. You said if I walked home like this, you would—”

“If you begged me,” she reminded him. “Only if you beg me. So, Roxy, how badly do you want it?”

He stared up at her, disbelief marring his pale face.

Namine giggled. “You didn’t really think I’d make you beg, did you, silly boy?”

Roxas’s throat flashed as he swallowed.

“How about this?” Namine began. “You return the favor to me—first—and then I’ll release you. Deal?”

He could only nod.

“Good,” she said. “Now… meet me in the basement.” And she walked away with an easy swish of her hips.

Roxas stared after her and the short flight of stairs leading down into the basement might as well have been the path into hell itself. He gazed at them for a long time and then eased himself painfully down, clinging to the railing for support. The futon and television were just how they had been left, the cuffs Namine had used on him lying on the table. Roxas began to take off his clothes, laying them aside. The wires connected to the vibrators inside him tickled his inner thighs, sending shivers racing up his spine. 

“You already got undressed?” Namine asked when she descended the stairs with a bottle of lubricant and several toys. “You’re being very good, Roxy.”

He shuddered.

“Now,” she said. “Get on the futon so I can prepare you.”

Roxas did so, crouching on the futon on his hands and knees with his behind raised towards her. The cool basement air kissed his heated core, whispered through the slats in the chastity cage imprisoning his genitals. He could smell his own unwashed flesh and a wave of nausea went through him. Then, suddenly, there was pressure. Namine had grabbed the wires attached to the vibrators and was pulling insistently, trying to pull all three of them from his body at the same time. 

His muscles screamed in protest for a moment before the small vibrators popped out with a wet sound. Roxas shuddered, his body sagging down onto his elbows. Namine ran her hand over his buttocks lightly and then trailed her finger between his cheeks, teasing the moisture that had gathered on his skin. Then, she squeezed a good amount of lubricant onto this puckered entrance. Roxas shuddered as she worked her fingers into him, but the vibrators had loosened his muscles considerably.

“It’s getting so soft, Roxy,” she cooed behind him. “Do you want the big one today?”

“No,” he forced out. “Just get this over with.”

Namine hummed low in her throat and then stepped back to strip out of her clothes. Roxas kept his eyes fixed on the coverlet of the futon until there was a hard slap to his exposed and bruised buttocks that made him yelp in pain and surprise. 

Namine said coldly, “Look here.”

Roxas did. She was naked, her thighs glistened with wetness. Her fingers were long and pale as she spread the lips of her core. She was flushed with blood, her pearl standing out, and framed with golden hairs. He quickly looked away, earning himself another bitter slap.

“Watch,” she said.

He turned back to look at her, his stomach and heart clenching as she showed him the new strap-on that she had bought. It was sort of L-shaped with the longer end designed to fit into him and the short part obviously prepared to penetrate her. There was also a small pocket in the harness for a bullet vibrator to stimulate her clitoris. She was smiling, all teeth and red lipstick.

“I’ll really be fucking you this time, Roxy.”

He looked away as she slid it into the wet heat of her core. There was a horrible wet sound as she did so. She moaned, throwing her head back in a shower of golden tresses, and then fastened the harness all around her hips. She made a few thrusting motions to test it and deemed it fit.

“Clean this up.”

Roxas felt the hard press of one of the bullet vibrators at his mouth and clenched his teeth hard. He knew where that thing had been and he didn’t want it anywhere near his mouth. Namine waited, insistently pressing it against his teeth and gums until he tasted blood.

Then, without warning, she grabbed the cage of the chastity belt and jerked hard. Roxas screamed in agony and she slipped the vibrator into his mouth, quickly cupping her hand over his lips to prevent him from spitting it out. The taste was foul, but Namine kept her hand pressed hard over his mouth until she felt him swallow. Only then did she allow him to spit it out.

“Good job, Roxy.”

Roxas spat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Namine busied herself with fitting the little vibrator into the strap-on’s harness and then set it to a speed that she liked. Only then did she line up the slick head of the dildo with Roxas’s lubricated entrance. She pushed in with exaggerated slowness, letting him feel every inch of the shaft as it entered him. He grit his teeth, trying not to moan or scream as it filled him slowly, scraping along his prostate. His caged member throbbed with agony.

“Do you like that, Roxy?” she taunted.

He didn’t answer, just grit his teeth and tried not to rock back against her. As much as he hated this, hated being trapped beneath her, pinned and violated, it felt so good. She ran her hands over his back, curving them beneath his chest to flick his nipples lightly. They were still sore and swollen from the scrape of her nail file earlier and he whimpered as she touched him. She began to pound into him, moaning softly as she did. The other end of the strap-on must have been perfect for her.

Roxas squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back all the sounds that wanted to escape him. He wanted to scream, to cry, and to moan. The pleasure he felt was only matched by the agony of being denied. His stomach quivered weakly, heat gathering in his core as Namine slid out to the tip and then pushed back in until her hips slapped against his buttocks. He fisted his hands in the coverlet of the futon, knuckles whitening with strain.

“N-Namine,” he whispered. “Please!”

He felt her smile behind him. It felt like a bright light, searing and warm. “Oh?”

“Please, let me—ah!” he broke off as she thrust hard into him, pounding against his prostate. His caged erection screamed, straining against the hard plastic that forced it down.

“What, Roxy?”

“Please, I need to.”

“You know what I want to hear.”

“Please!”

Namine ground her hips, rotating them in a circle that made her moan high and loud as the little vibrator rubbed against her clit. Roxas whimpered as she thrust deep into him, the shaft of the strap-on vibrating slightly from the bullet vibrator. It was so deep inside him, stretching and spreading his muscles. His prostate throbbed with pleasure, pulsing like a second heartbeat. 

“Please, let me cum,” he gasped out finally. “Please.”

Namine didn’t acknowledge him. She continued to thrust into him, moaning as the vibrator brought her to her peak.

“Please, Namine!”

She panted out a semblance of words that Roxas couldn’t understand through his own hazy mind. 

“Please!” he gasped out. “Namine!”

Then, with a scream, her orgasm rocked her. He felt the moisture of her orgasm splatter on the backs of his thighs and her body jerked hard, the strap-on spearing deep into him. He cried out, trembling beneath her as she slumped down. She breathed hard, her heart pounding against his back.

“Please,” he whispered again. “Please.”

Namine reached around his waist, her fingers trialing a path over his nipples and stomach. She didn’t touch him, though, and he felt the cool of the key against his back like a tease as she unfastened the harness and stepped off of it with another horrible wet noise. She left the shaft buried inside him.

“Namine, please.”

Calmly, she stepped away from the futon, closing her hand over the key between her breasts. Naked, glistening, beautiful, she watched him for a long moment. He lay on the futon, a miserable wretch with the long shaft of her strap-on still buried inside him to the hilt and precum leaking through the slats in the chastity cage. His entire body was a shivering mess, his teeth chattering with the pleasure and pain that wracked him.

“You never said the magic word, Roxy,” she said silkily.

“I begged,” he whispered.

She shook her head. “You never said ‘big sister,’ but if you think you can make yourself cum without my key, you’re more than welcome to try. I’m going to shower.” She grinned wickedly at him. “My orgasm was wonderful. Thank you, dear Roxy.” Then, without another word, she turned and left, taking the key with her.

“No!” Roxas screamed after her. 

He tried to stand, but his knees folded like wet paper, weak with pain and pleasure. Again, he struggled with the chastity cage, but nothing would remove it except Namine’s key. Even if he could touch himself, the constriction of the strap around the base of his member prevented orgasm completely. He was helpless without the key, without her. 

“Big sister!” he shouted after her.

A little something inside Roxas cracked, but Namine didn’t come back and didn’t even answer. 

He remained lying on the futon, whimpering in anguish for what felt like a small eternity, moving only to pull the dildo from his body. Then, he curled tightly around himself and tried to sleep, tears leaking beneath his tightly-closed lids. He felt the little broken piece rattling in his chest, misplaced, shattered. The little voice in his head sounded like Namine, whispering like a ghost, like the flowers in the garden used to when their father was still alive. 

It whispered, ‘Big sister…’

X X X

Questions, comments, concerns?

Review!


	5. Sisters, Sisters: Part II

I just needed to finish this off. I’m losing focus on everything else—a very “forest for the trees” kind of thing.

X X X

Time passed in the slow monotony of a small town with very little of interest going on. Even the clamor and curiosity that had swelled in the wake of the death of Roxas and Namine’s father had faded. Conversation turned back to the football team, to hobbies, to the bitter cold of winter, to the eagerness for spring. It was quiet and still, like the morning after a blizzard, and for a long time, Xion didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

She and Roxas had always been friends since they had been on the swim team together for years, but they weren’t outrageously close. Sometimes, they would study or eat lunch together or swim in tandem or take the occasional walk together if they were both going that way. Xion had always had a crush on Roxas, but he never seemed to notice and she didn’t want to risk their friendship so she just kept her feelings to herself. She wasn’t brave, not like Namine was.

Maybe that was the only thing out of the ordinary lately. Namine was perpetually flirting with boys, smiling and giggling behind the veil of her fingers, and Xion tried not to think that the cage of her fingers sometimes looked like sharp teeth. Xion still hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that Namine was like an oleander, beautiful and poisonous. Oddly enough, Roxas—who had always been overprotective of his little sister—didn’t say anything about her new flirtatious nature. But, outside of that, everything was normal.

Xion slid into the seat beside Roxas in the cafeteria during study hall, dropping her books with a thump. He jolted slightly beside her, startled from his reverie. His pencil rolled across the table lamely. He was watching Namine where she was sitting beyond the window in the sunshine with a boy who was practically drooling over the low-cut lace of her shirt that was visible over the top of her zippered coat.

“Worried about her?” Xion asked him.

Roxas shook his head. “Nah.”

Xion reached out and curled some of his golden hair over her fingers. Roxas usually kept his hair short and precisely-styled, but it had grown out over the past few weeks and was now brushing just against the tops of his shoulders. “Aren’t you going to cut your hair?”

Roxas turned his head so that she had to release the strands of pale hair. “I kind of like it,” he said. “Besides, I might donate it.”

“Ah,” Xion remarked. “Maybe I’ll do that too.”

Then, Roxas took off his sweater in the heat of the cafeteria and the fabric of his t-shirt was clinging to his shoulders. They looked like skulls. Roxas had always been thin and slight—he had the build of a swimmer—but it looked as if he had lost weight. Xion usually would have thought nothing of it what with the death of his father and all, but that had been a while ago. 

“Roxas?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“Have you lost weight?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He glanced over at her and then looked at his hands. “Maybe. I had to get rid of my membership at the gym.”

Xion smirked and said jokingly, “Well, you’re definitely losing tone, buddy.”

Roxas smiled at her and turned his attention to the pages of chemistry work spread across the table in front of him. He reclaimed his pencil, twisting it between his long fingers. Xion took out her chemistry homework as well and began to work on it, pausing only occasionally to ask Roxas a question about something she didn’t understand. He was very good at chemistry and very patient with her.

Xion wasn’t sure when she realized that Roxas’s hands were shaking, but she paused in her work with the periodic table to watch him surreptitiously from the corner of her eye.

His fingers twitched, jolting around his pencil so that he nearly dropped it, and he made a little soft sound in his throat. Then, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, pressing his knees together. He lifted a hand, twisting his fingers through his hair, and then glanced out the window at Namine. She was smiling, laughing, the column of her pale throat flashing as she breathed. Against the white backdrop of the snow, she looked like an icy goddess. She was wearing a small key on a silver chain against her throat and lifted her fingers to it lightly as girls often did.

“Roxas?” Xion asked. “Is something wrong?”

He jolted, tearing his eyes away from Namine. “No, nothing,” he said in a strained voice. “Why do you ask?”

Xion just stared at him, her eyes wide and bright like stars.

But Roxas didn’t say anything else. He just turned his attention back to his homework, holding the pencil so tightly that Xion thought she heard it snap softly. A shudder ran through his body, wracking him to core, and he made a little sound that was both familiar and alien to Xion. She stared at him, unabashed, hoping that the blue of her eyes would make him tell her what was wrong, but Roxas ignored her studiously. 

Outside, the sound of Namine’s laughter was carried on the breeze.

…

Namine’s hand was icy-cold when she slipped it down the back of Roxas’s jeans as they walked home. He jolted, trying to shiver out of her grasp, but there wasn’t anywhere to escape to. Her fingers probed beneath the elastic of his panties and cupped his buttocks easily. Then, after they finished navigating across some lingering ice, she pressed her fingertips to the base of the plug she had pushed inside him just that morning. He hissed, gritting his teeth.

“How was your day with this inside you?” Namine asked.

“Weird,” he muttered.

“Did you enjoy it?” she asked him coyly.

Roxas slid her a look that was supposed to be fierce, but she rapped her fingers on the base of the plug again and his glare was lost to a wave of pleasure as the tip of the plug rubbed against his prostate. He moaned softly, fighting back the sounds since they were still on the sidewalk.

“Admit it, Roxy,” she said smoothly, “you like to be penetrated. You enjoy being stuffed full like a girl.”

He didn’t answer her.

Namine removed her now-warm hand from the back of his pants and tucked her fingers into her gloves. “If you answer me truthfully, I’ll let you cum tonight.”

Roxas couldn’t stifle the little gasp of eagerness that escaped his lips and flushed.

Namine smirked sidelong at him, her lips glittering with gloss. “How long has it been since I let you cum, Roxy? Tell me.”

“A few… weeks,” he muttered. 

She clapped her hands lightly, but the sound was muted by her gloves. “A few weeks? How many days, Roxy?”

“Fifteen,” he said.

She giggled. “Are you ready to explode yet?”

He didn’t answer, turning his face away with shame as they climbed the front steps of their home. The lights were off and the television was silent so their mother still hadn’t returned home from the hospital. Roxas had seen his mother fewer times than Namine had let him cum in the past fifteen days. Maybe she had a bedroom at the hospital or had found another man with eyes like their father and Namine. She never came home anymore, but she called often to talk to Namine. Roxas could hear the tears in her voice when he answered the phone or talked to her.

Namine closed the front door at their backs and then slapped the very center of his buttocks. The shockwave washed through his body, spearing through the plug inside him, and made him cry out sharply. “You never answered me,” she said.

Roxas helped her out of her coat, hanging it up with his own in the closet and trying to ignore her. “Do I need to?”

Namine giggled. “I suppose not, but then I won’t let you cum.”

Roxas slammed the closet door.

“Oh, Roxy,” she purred, pressing her fingers to the key at her throat. “I know I’ve lied to you before, but you know why that happened. You didn’t beg. You didn’t say the right words to me.”

“Big sister,” he sneered.

She lifted her hand to strike him and he flinched away, squeezing his eyes shut, but the blow never landed. Namine giggled and he opened his eyes to find her smirking at him.

“Those are the right words, Roxy, not if only you could use them in the right context,” she said smoothly. Then, with a swish of her narrow hips, she turned away and began to climb the steps to her room. Roxas knew what she was going to say even before she spoke. “Meet me in the basement.”

For a moment, Roxas considered ignoring her and going up to his room. But if he didn’t go down and let her have his way with him, if he went straight to his room and removed the plug himself, she would drug him unconscious and beat the hell out of him—like she had the week before when she caught him trying to pick the lock on the chastity cage. Roxas had no desire to feel that much pain ever again and Namine always knew to beat him in a place where no one could see, but that only made it worse. There were still bruises ringing his hips, thighs, and genitals though they were merely yellow and sore now. 

Instead, Roxas went into the basement, turned on the lights, and sat down on the futon. The plug pressed deeper inside him.

A few minutes later, Namine flounced down the stairs. She had taken off her clothes and was wearing a pink silk robe with little white flowers on it. She carried her favorite strap-on under her arm—it was the one that could be inside her while she was thrusting into him with the little pouch for a tiny vibrator to stimulate her clit. She always orgasmed when she used it on him, on herself, on both of them.

“You didn’t get undressed?” she asked with some surprise.

“Maybe I didn’t want to,” Roxas said. “Maybe I’m not going to give into you today.”

Namine smiled a thin close-lipped smile. Then, with complete and utter cruelty, she said, “Oh, Roxy, it’s cute that you believe that, but we both know you’ve given up. You came down here to be fucked by me, to finally cum after fifteen days of being denied.” She stepped closer to him and put her foot in his crotch, pressing down so hard that he felt a spear of pain even with the chastity cage protecting his genitals. “Now, admit it, Roxy.”

Roxas stared up at her, his eyes hard and his hands clenched against his thighs. He knew the words to deny her, but he couldn’t actually say them. His throat closed up and Namine smirked down at him, knowing that she owned him completely.

She tossed off her robe and pulled on the strap-on, sliding it into herself with a moan. Then, she tangled her fingers in his too-long hair and pulled painfully. After a moment though, her cruelty diminished and she petted his hair gently. He shivered, sensing that she could break this mask of gentleness and hurt him at any moment. She was capable of anything.

“I like your hair long like this, Roxy,” she murmured. “It makes you more like my little sister.”

He put his hands on her hips, trying to push her away, and felt the bones of her body. She felt so thin, so fragile, but he knew better now. He had learned that she was stronger than he would ever be. She was strong like their father had been. She dug the sharp points of her high-heels into the carpet, preventing him from pushing her away. It would take a force from heaven or hell to move her. The purple strap-on bobbed in front of his face, weaving through the air like a butterfly.

“Lick it, Roxy,” Namine said. “Give it a blowjob.”

Roxas tried to turn his face away, but she still had a grip on his hair. The head of the cock brushed against his lips and smelled like plastic. For a moment, Roxas wondered if she had washed it since the last time it had been inside of him. Her nails scraped against his scalp, jerking his hair to remind him that she could hurt him at any moment if she chose to or if he denied her.

“Go ahead, Roxy,” she continued. “After all, you know what it likes.”

He parted his lips and the cock slipped eagerly inside his wet cavern as if it had a will of its own. Namine made a soft sound of delight, her hips rolling beneath his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut, bile rising in his throat as he thought of where the shaft of the phallus had been, but it mercifully tasted only like plastic. 

Sensing his thoughts, Namine giggled. “Would you like it better if it tasted like you, Roxy?”

He tried to pull away, but she didn’t let him. The phallus slipped down the back of this throat, gagging him, and he struggled against her. Slowly, unyielding like stone, she began to rock her hips, deliberately thrusting into his mouth. After a long moment, the feeling of choking abated and Roxas sucked in a breath through his nose. He could smell the scent of her arousal and closed his eyes.

“This is how I use you, Roxy,” Namine purred as she moved the shaft of the strap-on in and out of his mouth. “Just like this. It’s how I take you.”

Roxas opened his eyes and looked up at her. Her head was thrown back, golden tresses cascading over her bare shoulders and her breasts glimmering in the dim basement lighting. He could see the map of veins in to stomach and the curve of her ribcage. She was so thin, so lovely, so cruel.

Catching him looking up at her, she smiled and ran her fingers down the side of his face gently. “You have a nice face, Roxy,” she murmured. “You could make a man very happy with those eyes.”

Sharply, he looked away.

Namine giggled. “You could, Roxy,” she teased him. “You definitely could.”

Then, she released his hair and allowed him to pull away from the phallus. For a moment, glimmering strands of saliva kept them connected, but Roxas broke them with a jerk of his head. Shame welled in his chest and Namine draped herself along his back. She licked the shell of his ear, her breath hot and loud. 

“Get undressed,” she purred, “and I’ll let you feel good.”

Roxas rose from the futon and began to peel of his t-shirt and jeans. Then, he stepped out of the panties that Namine had forced him to wear instead of boxers what felt like an eternity ago. His member was swollen and pained inside the chastity cage, throbbing insistently as it had been for two weeks now. The plug was buried deep inside him, pressing against his prostate, but all of this was meaningless. He knew Namine was going to make it a thousand times worse.

She wet her lips and held out her hands to him, beckoning him closer. He turned when she instructed it and felt her grip the base of the plug. He tensed even though he knew it would only hurt worse as she pulled the butt plug from inside him and laid it aside. Then, she squeezed lubricant onto her fingers and pressed them into him with a quiet delighted sound.

“Roxy, your butt is getting so soft.”

When she curled her fingers to massage his prostate, his only answer was to cry out.

“Does it feel good, Roxy?” 

Despite himself, he nodded.

Namine smiled. “Good, good,” she said. “Kneel on the futon.”

He got on his hands and knees before her and felt the heat of her body as she came to kneel behind him. Then, slowly, with something that was almost gentleness, she pushed the shaft of the strap-on into his body. He hissed softly, biting his lower lip as she filled him to the brim. The coolness of the key whispered against his naked back like a taunt. 

“Move beneath me, Roxy,” she whispered against the shell of his ear.

He did so, rocking his hips back and forth onto the phallus. She had never allowed him to set the pace before. Usually, she pounded into him with reckless abandon, enjoying every second that he moaned with self-loathing and pain. But now, she leaned back and he felt her eyes on him. She watched how he moved to pleasure himself, absorbed what he liked, and goose bumps broke out all over Roxas’s pale skin. What was she planning? What more was she capable of?

“Oh, Roxy,” she murmured. “Do you really like it so gentle?”

He didn’t answer. Shame was hot in the base of his throat. 

She gripped his hips and began to rock into him at the pace he obviously enjoyed. The pleasure coiled white-hot in his lower stomach, but it was barbed. He hadn’t been able to climax for over two weeks and it was more pain than anything else. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, gathering there. Then, suddenly, Namine pulled out. He nearly collapsed, his arms and legs quivering weakly.

“Namine?” he whispered.

“Roll over,” she said. “I want to see your face.”

He did, lying on his back on the futon. It was searing relief not to have to support his weight, but when Namine sank back into him, he felt her slide deeper than ever before. The side of the phallus pressed against his prostate fully and the muscles spread wider than they had before so that he felt fuller. A spike of agony ran through the chastity cage as his erection strained against it. Namine flicked the clear plastic with the tip of her fingernail and the lock rattled lamely. 

Roxas squeezed his eyes shut as she began to move again, thrusting slow and deep just as she had before. She ran her fingertips over his nipples, pinching them lightly until they were swollen and hard. He squirmed beneath her, his entire body twitching with pleasure and pain. Sweat gathered against his temples and chest, rolling down in beads. Soon, it was impossible to bear all the feelings—so much agony, so much pleasure. 

For a moment, even he couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“What?” Namine asked, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face. “What did you say?”

“P-please,” he gasped out. His words were only slightly more intelligible. “P-please, Namine, l-let me… please, let me c-cum.”

She smiled and her teeth were like pearls. “Just say it, Roxy. Say the magic words.”

“P-please,” he whispered. 

“It’ll be yours,” she said softly, petting back his long hair. “I’ll let you have it if you only say the words. Everything you want, as many times as you want…”

“P-please… b-big s-sister…”

Namine smiled and lifted the thin silver chain over her head. The key ghosted along his chest and stomach, teasing him, as she neared the lock of the chastity cage. Then, she paused, waiting, smiling, still thrusting slowly inside of him.

“Please,” Roxas gasped out. “Namine, big sister, please.”

She unlocked the chastity cage and unfastened the buckles, sliding it off of him. His erection sprang up like a desperate fern seeking sunlight and the searing pain abruptly vanished. There was only pleasure, white-hot and roaring out of control like a wild fire. He screamed when he came, finally after two long weeks of being denied.

Namine yelped in surprise as Roxas’s semen splattered over her naked breasts and stomach, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He reached desperately to touch himself and she let him, watching with those bright blue eyes of hers, as he stroked himself to completion with a shudder. It didn’t take much, barely even a single stroke. He was so close, so far gone.

“You came all over me,” she remarked softly, still moving within him.

“S-sorry,” he whispered.

“Clean me up, Roxy,” she said, “and I’ll let you cum again.”

His neck trembled as he nodded weakly. It was difficult to sit up with the shaft of her strap-on still deep inside him, but not impossible. Her skin was warm and smelled like vanilla and roses. Roxas opened his mouth, tracing his tongue along the paths of milky semen that splattered her pearly skin. It tasted foul, too salty and too bitter, but Namine’s hands were warm on his back.

“You like the taste, Roxy,” she was whispering as she petted him, encouraged him. “You like the taste of yourself.”

He nodded dimly into her skin, lapping at the seed on her left breast. When his mouth closed over her nipple, she tilted her head back and moaned softly, tangling her fingers in his hair. His lips traveled, moving down as far as he could reach to lick the semen from her skin. When he could bend no farther, he scooped it away with his fingers and licked them clean. 

Namine shivered beneath his touch. “Oh, Roxy…”

He wanted to protest something, but there seemed no reason to. A little voice in the back of his head cried out distantly. He collapsed back on the futon, staring up at her. “Please, big sister,” he said and he could taste the words as sweet as any flower. “Please.”

She began to move again, thrusting deep inside him, and he closed his eyes in bliss. There was no more pain, only pleasure, only the feeling of her inside him, only this… When he looked up into her face, he saw only power in her eyes—strength and fierceness. 

“I’ll protect you, Roxy,” she whispered. “I’ll protect you because you’re my little sister.”

Again, a little voice in the back of his mind protested, but he didn’t care anymore. He pushed it away, giving himself over to the feeling of her moving inside him, to the scrape of her shaft against his prostate, to the feeling of his muscles stretching open to accept her. The pain was gone now and there was only pleasure.

“Yes,” he heard himself say. “Big sister…”

Namine cried out as she came, her orgasm wet and warm between them, but she kept moving, bringing him to a second peak. He didn’t have to touch himself. The feeling of her was enough to bring him over the edge, gasping her name. She had him clean up the semen with his mouth, petting his hair, touching him, caressing him. He melted into her, the pleasure, the softness, the heat.

When she slapped his ass suddenly, he screamed in pain, but then she closed her mouth over his and the kiss was like nothing he had ever felt before. She tasted sweet, like raspberry lip gloss, and it was welcome after the bitterness of his own seed. Namine pulled away, wiped her mouth with her hand, smiled, and slipped into him again.

“Oh Roxy,” she murmured as she thrust into him.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Yes.”

…

Roxas didn’t show up for the next few swim meets and Xion never saw him in school anymore. When she asked Namine about him, the pale beautiful girl only smiled and said that he was ‘changing a few things.’ She never said any more than that and it was driving Xion crazy.

Then, so suddenly that it was almost like a piece of a dream, there was a pretty blond girl sitting in Roxas’s seat in their chemistry class. She was sitting there silently, oblivious to all the words and snickers of the boys surrounding her. She was wearing tight-fitting jeans and a t-shirt that pressed against the under-developed curves of her chest. In fact, she seemed to have hardly any breasts at all, but her hair was silky and flowing. She was wearing glittering lipstick and perfume that smelled like lilacs and a necklace with a single key on it.

Xion sat down in her usual seat beside the girl, beside where Roxas used to sit. Maybe Roxas was sick, maybe he was dropping out, maybe, maybe, maybe…

“Hi,” Xion offered to the new girl kindly. “I’m Xion.”

Blue eyes fringed with pale beautiful lashes turned towards Xion.

Several long heartbeats passed and Xion’s pencil slipped from her hand. As if in slow motion, it rolled across the desk, tipped over the edge, and landed on the floor. The rest of the class was still talking and chattering amongst themselves, but all that seemed distant now. Xion felt positively alone, as if she and this new girl were on a world all their own.

“I know,” the pretty blond said.

“R-R-R—” Xion choked out.

The girl tilted her head slight, pale hair cascading over her shoulders in waves. 

Xion staggered up from her seat until her back collided with the cool surface of the lab prep station. She wanted to speak, to scream, but no sounds escaped. 

The person in Roxas’s seat was still watching her with concern. “Are you okay, Xion?”

“R-R-R—”

Those blue eyes were like a glass of water, transparent and shallow, pale like the eyes of someone dead. “Is something wrong?”

Xion could only stare, horror welling up like poison in a wound. Memories cascaded down, overlapping with what she saw now. She had been there the day Namine and Roxas stood in the windswept cemetery and watched their father’s coffin be put into the ground. Then, she had wished she could take Roxas’s hand and hold onto him so that he wouldn’t be swept away. He had looked sick in his mourning clothes, but Namine had been just as beautiful as always like a bush of toxic oleander blooming the color of blood. 

“R-Roxas,” she breathed out so quietly that it was a mere breath.

Roxas had always been paler than Namine was. His presence had always been less than hers. When Namine came into a room, everyone stopped to stare, but Roxas slid into the shadows like a wallflower that only bloomed in shadows. Even his name was a breath, a whisper, something fragile that could be swept away at a moment’s notice without consequence. Xion had seen that part of him, had noticed it since the first time they met, and she loved him for that. But now… there was only this beautiful girl sitting in his place with long hair and eyes like shallow water.

“Did you forget my name?” the girl asked cheekily, giggling. 

Xion was unable to speak, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“I’m Roxy,” he said with a smile like a skull.

Namine had not only buried her father, but she buried her brother too.

X X X

Questions, comments, concerns?

Well, we are finished! Hopefully that didn’t scar anyone for life. It was quite the interesting story to write and I rather enjoyed the whole situation for all its divergence from the norm. (And I won’t be doing a sequel for it, so no one ask about it.) 

So, drop me a review and talk to me about it!


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